Numbers
by Penelope Louise
Summary: A collection of drabbles pertaining to different numbers. Mostly Tony/Ziva but there are other pairings.
1. First Bond

_**A/N: I haven't done a collection of NCIS drabbles/one-shots yet, so I thought it was high time I should.**_

_**The title is based on ncisdrabble100's challenge "numbers" while the individual drabbles are based on other challenges.**_

_**This drabble is based on the challenge "the first time".**_

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"You're kidding! Right?" Tony's voice carried straight across the bullpen and hit McGee full in the face as he exited the elevator. He headed over to where Ziva and Tony were having a heated discussion.

"What is Ziva kidding or not kidding about?" McGee questioned Tony, warily standing between the two who almost looked like they were having a staring contest.

"Miss Zee-vah has never watched James Bond!" Tony exploded, and McGee chuckled as he dropped his bag by his desk and lounged back in his chair.

"You know, Tony, I really don't blame her," he answered, ignoring Tony's icy glare as he logged on to his computer.

The day passed in a tedious blur of cold cases and reports: not one of the most exciting days in the history of Team Gibbs. Said team leader decided to let his flagging underlings leave early; McGee shot off like a bullet from Ziva's Berretta in a firing range. Tony and Ziva took a more leisurely pace.

By the time they arrived at Tony's apartment, it was nearing six o'clock, and the sky was already dark with the eerie feel of winter. Ziva shivered as Tony opened her door and the cool air rushed in to replace the heated air inside the car. Together, they made their way across the damp, slippery tarmac to the front door. Tony unlocked the door; he pushed it open and they hurried into the welcoming warm, heated feel of 'home'.

Ziva unwrapped her scarf from her neck, and unzipped her thick, black, ankle-length jacket; she left her shoes in their usual place by the door. Tony, meanwhile, had poured two glasses of red wine and had grabbed five DVDs.

He displayed them proudly to her.

"James Bond?" she laughed.

"You can call me Bond, James Bond."

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A/N: Feedback is much appreciated. Feel free to also ask for sequels to drabbles.**_


	2. Second Chance

_**A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Here is number two of my collection! I really hope you enjoy it.**_

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Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was doing what he did every afternoon between 5pm and 8pm. He was using his local firing range and had currently been shooting for two hours straight with no breaks.

Ever since… _she _left, he had been putting himself through tougher regimes – he ran ten miles every morning… he passed her empty house – spent three hours shooting in the afternoon and lifted weights in the evening.

His old life of girls, fast-food and joking around was long gone.

He stopped to reload and glanced at the target next to his. There was a large hole where the bullseye should have been. He eyed the shooter.

She was young, no older than twenty, and had dark brown hair and brown eyes. She reminded him of someone. Someone he couldn't bear to think of anymore.

"You're a crack shot," he commented, when the girl also stopped to reload. She was shooting a Berretta M9 – a favourite weapon of his own partner.

"My mother taught me," she replied, smiling. "You are not bad yourself."

Tony glanced at his own target. Most were in the yellow, although a few had strayed to the red. It was pitiful compared to the girl's own skills.

"How old are you?" he asked her, not bothering to be subtle.

"Eighteen," she answered him, and his throat tightened at the number.

It had been eighteen years since… since she left.

"My name is Sabriel," she continued, and he suddenly realized why he recognized the voice. The lack of contractions, the Israeli accent with a slight American twang…

She sounded exactly like _her. _The woman who he had tried not to think about for the past eighteen years. The woman he had fallen in love with the moment he'd met her: he had admitted it only four months before she returned to her homeland.

On her father's orders.

He never saw her since.

"Sabriel," Tony repeated slowly.

"Yes," she agreed, "and I am your daughter."

He had already worked this out, but it was still strange to hear the words out of her mouth.

Maybe, he though, just maybe, this would be his new beginning.

Maybe Sabriel would be his second chance.

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A/N: Feedback would be awesome, thanks!**_


	3. Third Candle

_**A/N: Wow! Thanks all for your really nice reviews! This is drabble numero three! [Happy Hanukkah in 14 days!]**_

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"Hanukkah?" Tony asked Ziva. "When's that then?"

"It begins on the 25th of Kislev," Ziva replied, smirking.

"Our calendar, please?" Tony chuckled.

"This year, the 11th December. Would you like to come to a traditional Hanukkah dinner, then?" she repeated her earlier question.

DiNozzo grinned.

"I wouldn't say no for the world."

The 11th of December arrived quickly.

"It begins today, when does it end?" Tony asked interestedly, as Ziva hadn't chosen the 11th for their dinner.

"The 19th," she replied, confusing Tony even more. "I'm at a celebration dinner with friends from synagogue then."

For some strange reason he couldn't understand, Anthony DiNozzo felt rather jealous of these 'friends'.

Tony knocked on Ziva's front door, and it only took her second to reach it and open it. Her face transformed into a bright smile when she saw her partner. "Shalom," she greeted him.

"Ahalan," he replied, and kissed her on the cheek before entering.

After Ziva had served the food - she announced that there were _latkes, hamentashen _and soup with _matzo _balls – they began to eat.

"These are good!" Tony exclaimed, "Did you make them?"

Ziva smiled at the compliment. "Yes, I did."

As the sweet course, Ziva brought out a tray of _sufganiyot_, which to Tony looked exactly like donuts, but which Ziva informed him were traditional on Hanukkah in Israel.

Tony leaned back in his chair. "You're an excellent cook," he grinned at her. She smiled her thanks at him, and glanced out the window. It had been dark for a while.

"Would you like to help me light the menorah tonight?" she asked him. Tony smiled – he knew this was a traditional part of the holiday and he took the offer as a compliment.

"I'd love to."

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A/N: Feedback would be insanely lovely!**_


	4. Four Seasons

_**A/N: Happy New Year! It's currently just past one o'clock in the morning for me..! [Well, it was when I wrote this] I hope you enjoy this! Sorry for forgetting about this collection… oops.**_

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Summer_

Ziva had always loved the summer. Summer in DC wasn't the same as summer at home, obviously, but it was nice at least. She remembered summers from her childhood; playing with Talia in the sun, teasing the boys on the beaches and swimming in the cool sea.

She remembered how you would run as fast as you could to reach the sea, the sand burning your feet as you did so. She had always been the fastest, beating even the boys.

Summer. The time when her father took them on holiday to foreign lands. Lebanon and Syria were the most common, although Egypt, Morocco and European countries did get a look in too.

Summer time, when the camomile plants would flower, the carob trees would be fruitful and their garden would be bright with Jerusalem thorn and the streets would be full of people selling Egyptian sugar cane.

She loved the summer.

_Autumn_

Autumn was McGee's favourite season. It wasn't cold, like winter, but it wasn't hot like summer. It was also the season when most of the new video games came out, which had swayed the young McGee's decision.

Autumn had been the season he had joined NCIS: the best decision he'd ever made.

Autumn had been the season when he and Abby had started dating… and the interesting night in the coffin. Although, he didn't discover it was a coffin until the next day.

He had always been the one to take Sarah to the park and watch her play with her friends while surfing the internet: he had hacked a local café's WiFi for that very purpose.

Autumn made him smile.

_Winter_

Winter. Abby's favourite time of the year.

No sun, so no chance of a tan. No one looked at her strangely in the winter, being in black and wrapped up warm wasn't exactly odd in that season.

At school, winter had been indoor sports season, and since most of the time it snowed or rained she didn't even have to be coerced outside to the playground; instead she stayed in the computer labs, avoiding her classmates.

She remembered her brother's first White Christmas: he'd been ecstatic! He'd bribed her into having a snow-fight, building a snowman and making snow angels… eventually.

The other great thing about winter? Christmas. Family time.

Christmas was one of the most silent times of the year for her. She didn't speak unless other family members visited – which was rare – or something was delivered.

Sign language was the only language for use at Christmas, and it would always stay that way.

Abby couldn't help but adore the winter season.

_Spring_

Spring break.

Boating season.

For absolutely different reasons, both Tony and Gibbs loved spring. For Tony it brought cute girls and spring break when he'd been in college. For Gibbs, it was the perfect season to take out his boats.

Most people thought he finished them and chopped them up, otherwise how would he get them out of the basement? It was a secret Gibbs would take to his grave. Just to uphold the mysteriousness.

Tony had always liked Easter when he was a kid. His father wouldn't get drunk and slap him about like at Christmas. He would buy Tony chocolate – buy his love back – and then return to his… usual self after the holiday.

Kelly had always loved Christmas, and the religious holiday was one of sadness but odd joy for Gibbs. He always ended up buying at least Abby a chocolate egg. It made him feel like he had a family again.

Spring. For completely different reasons Anthony DiNozzo and Leroy Jethro Gibbs liked the spring season.

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A/N: Well, I hope you liked that! Feedback is much appreciated!**_


	5. Five Years

_**A/N: Well, I finally got around to writing things again, I hope you've noticed! Anyway, I was feeling in a mood for angst so here is Five Years. I hope you like it!**_

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The shadow levelled a gun at Tony's head. She tried to cry out, to warn him but he couldn't hear her. She tried to run, to knock the gun away or to block the bullet's path but her feet wouldn't move. She watched in terror as the shadow pulled the trigger._

_A shot rang out._

_A scream._

_A cry._

"_Ziva," Tony mumbled, trying to make his words coherent, "Ziva…"_

"Ziva! Ziva! Wake up!" McGee shook Ziva's arm firmly, and she clawed at him until she realized who it was. She collapsed against him, sobbing. McGee cradled her like a child and her tears soaked through his shirt and he held her as the sobs racked her body.

"I'm sorry," she muttered into his shirt as he stroked her hair gently.

"It's alright," McGee soothed her.

Some people would have thought it odd. A man looking after his best friend's girl and her daughter.

To McGee, it was perfectly acceptable. Ziva needed someone to look after her when the nightmares came, to look after Brianna when she was unable to and to help her around the house.

Raising a child wasn't the simplest thing ever, especially for a single mother who spent most nights waking up every so often in a cold sweat as the bad dreams invaded her sleep.

"Tim, you should have to, I'm so sorry…" McGee shushed Ziva, he didn't need her apologies.

"It's okay, Ziva," he answered. He had to admit, he did enjoy looking after Brianna, and when she called him "dad" he felt like he belonged somewhere. A way he'd never felt before except for joining Gibbs' team at NCIS.

Someone knocked tentatively on the door and it opened revealing five year old Brianna, dressed in her pyjamas with ninja characters on them – a present from Abby - and holding her teddy bear tightly.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Brianna walked over and McGee lifted her onto the bed.

"I'm fine, Bree," Ziva ruffled her daughter's hair affectionately. "I'm fine."

Brianna took hold of her teddy bear's arms and made it look like the teddy was hugging Ziva.

"I love you, Mommy," Ziva pulled her daughter into a one armed hug, her other hand still clutching McGee's tightly.

"I love you too," Ziva smiled weakly.

Five years ago Tony had tried to save a young girl who was being held hostage, despite Gibbs' advice not to.

It was rescue the girl, or leave the six year old to be killed.

He did what he thought was right.

The girl lived.

He died.

And five years later, the nightmares still haunted Ziva.

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A/N: Well, the next one will be less… dark. And can you guess that I like McGiva as well as Tiva? No, I didn't think you could. LOL. Why McGiva? Because new!McGee is HELLA hot. Oh yeah. Anyway, feedback would be awesome!**_


	6. Sixth Sense

_**A/N: FLUFF FOR LIZOU! I promised! And I always deliver! Not romance fluffy though. I hope you enjoy!**_

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Ziva had to have a sixth sense. She _had _to. There was no way that Mossad could have taught her everything, from knowing what you ate for breakfast to what you were going to do before you did it. Surely Mossad wasn't that amazing?

She had to have been born with a sixth sense.

She _must _have.

"I bet she has a sixth sense," Tony whispered to McGee as he leaned on the former team Probie's desk and looked over at Ziva.

"Probably, she can always tell if we're lying," McGee narrowed his eyes.

Ziva couldn't have been trained to be a human lie detector, she was too good! She was so instinctive; that type of instinct couldn't be taught!

"I do not have a sixth sense," Ziva spoke up and both McGee and Tony looked up like deer caught in the headlights of Ziva's oncoming car. Much more dangerous that a _normal _person's headlights. They didn't drive double the speed limit.

"See?" Tony hissed to McGee, as if Ziva had perfectly proved his point.

_Maybe she's born with it._

_Maybe it's Mossad training._

"I can still hear you," Ziva added in a sing-song voice and both Tony and McGee winced as they were simultaneously head-slapped by Gibbs.

"Work," Gibbs ordered and Tony dashed back to his desk before turning to McGee.

"Him too," he said, just as a well aimed paper ball from Ziva hit his directly between the eyes.

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A/N: Anyone who has seen a Maybelline commercial will get the bit in italics. They always play it – it's so annoying – and it goes, **__"Maybe she's born with it. Maybe it's Maybelline." __**So, that's why. Heh. Feedback is muchas appreciated!**_


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